Sympathy for the Icelanders Part IX: Rematch
by HaloFin17
Summary: Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Here we are, at the start of another Sympathetic adventure! Many thanks to the reviewers from "Christmas Surprises" who encouraged me to move ahead with this continuation. Just a quick little Prologue for now, but it'll be enough to get the ball rolling. Enjoy!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders Part IX: Rematch**

**Prologue**

"I'll bet he wants to talk about summer practice schedules," Goldberg grumbled to no one in particular.

"Yeah, okay, but what about those of us who don't live in Minneapolis, genius?" retorted Luis.

"A summer practice _regimen_ then," the Ducks' newest star defenseman amended.

I just chuckled and shook my head, observing my friends' usual antics. We were a month away from school at Eden Hall concluding for the summer, meaning that hockey season was well behind us. However, it wasn't a huge surprise for anyone when we heard that Coach Orion wanted to see our team in the locker room that day after classes. With any luck, maybe he'd have something that would distract us from the ever-looming threat of approaching finals.

Orion was already there waiting for us when we arrived. But he wasn't alone.

"Coach!" Charlie and Connie exclaimed in unison from the front of our group as they enthusiastically rushed forward to greet none other than Gordon Bombay himself. We were all equally surprised and happy to see him, and when it was finally my turn to embrace him, I had to admit our former coach looked very well. Apparently, life with the Goodwill Games had been good to him so far.

"So what brings you back to Minnesota?" Banks asked him, grinning from ear to ear.

Averman added, "Yeah, we thought for sure Coach Orion was about to put us to work for next year already."

"Well, we are here to talk about hockey over the summer," cautioned Orion. "But I'm going to let your old coach explain what's actually going on, since he's much more involved in the whole affair than I am."

I exchanged curious glances with a few of my teammates before Bombay started filling us in on some details.

"Guys, school gets out in about a month, and I'm sure you're already looking forward to getting out of here for a while. But I'm afraid you'll all be staying on campus for another two weeks after everyone else goes home."

"WHAT?!" The uproar was instantaneous and unanimous.

Coach continued, "I had a meeting with the Committee for the Jr. Goodwill Games a couple of days ago, and after such a close competition last summer, they've decided to set up a rematch. Between you and Iceland."

What had begun as an uproar now exploded into chaos – for everyone except me. I just sat speechless and frozen in my seat.

Russ Tyler's voice finally rose above the din. "This has gotta be Coach Stansson's idea! How can the Committee let him boss them around like that?"

"Actually, Russ, he didn't have anything to do with this. He has agreed to it, though, even if there's nothing but pride at stake this time. His team, like ours, might have lost a player or two since last year, but we'll all make do. No new players can be added at this point."

"So we're stuck here after school gets out for the summer so that we can practice?" Ken deduced.

"Partly, but also because the game itself will be held here. The match will still be televised, but the Committee wanted a smaller, more private venue this time. They also wanted to follow up on how well you Ducks were doing on your scholarships here at Eden Hall."

"In other words, the school gets a nice shot of publicity," Guy grimly concluded. At this point, he was fully recovered from the injuries he'd received during the JV/Varsity showdown. Much to Connie's relief.

Gordon nodded. "That's about how it works. Now, Coach Orion will work on getting you guys back into hockey shape over the next month, and he'll be your coach for the match as well. I'm sure you Ducks will all make me proud."

"Will the Varsity be stickin' around for this, too?" Dwayne asked.

"No," Orion answered firmly. "I'm sure they'll hear about it, so those who live locally may be in and out on occasion during those two weeks; but by now, they should know better than to cause any trouble. I couldn't blame them for wanting to see Wolf Stansson's protégé's in action, though. I'm even looking forward to it."

Fulton spoke up, "If they really want a fair rematch, they should have Varsity and Iceland duke it out for second place. I mean, we already beat both of them."

"Hey, yeah, that's a good idea, Bro," Dean Portman concurred from beside him, giving his Bash Brother an approving fist-bump.

Our old coach ignored them, then elaborated, "I'll come back here shortly after the school year ends to start getting things organized on behalf of the Games, and you'll all have a week or so to practice more intensely as a team once the other students go home. Then the Iceland team will arrive, and both sides will have about another week to get ready before the big game."

A week? Did he really just say that Stansson and his players would be here for a full week? As in _here_, on campus, with all of us? My smile started slowly, but soon enough it threatened to pull my face apart.

Bombay stopped in the middle of whatever he was saying and stared at me. A few seconds ticked by, and now I could feel that the eyes of everyone in the room were on me.

"Julie?" Coach asked carefully. "Are you all right?"

Portman answered for me, although certainly not in the same tone I would have used. "Oh, she's way better than 'all right.' Cat, you mean you didn't know anything about this little rematch?"

Bombay shook his head. "Why should she know anything about it? It was only decided two days ago."

"She's got inside connections," argued the Ducks' best enforcer. "Didn't you tell him, Jules?"

"No…I thought for sure Charlie or someone else would have told him long ago."

"Told me what?" Coach stood with his hands on his hips, looking exasperated.

"Julie's dating Enemy Number One," Portman answered succinctly before I could say anything. "And not just a one-time ice cream date like you did, Coach, which was bad enough. We're talking full-out, hard-core _dating_. She even went up there for a whole week over Christmas break."

Bombay just blinked, his eyes darting back and forth between Dean and me. "Julie…would you care to explain what he's talking about?"

Finally, I could speak for myself! I did so proudly. "Coach, I've been pretty much long-distance dating Gunnar Stahl ever since the Games ended last summer."

He was back to staring at me again, looking like he couldn't believe his ears. "And did you really go all the way to Iceland to see him?"

I answered him with a sure nod, and through it all, my smile never wavered.

**Author's End Note: **Never fear, Chapter 1 will backtrack a little to give us a glimpse of what Julie's life has been like since she got back from Iceland. I wish I could say everything was nice and rosy for her, but if it was, we wouldn't have a story. See you there, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **What do you know, Chapter 1 is ready in a timely fashion as well. It must be a miracle. A big thank you to faithful readers **Sand Sibling** and **katiehofffan** for their enthusiastic reviews on the opening chapter! Here now we'll see more of what Julie's been living with over the past few months and share in her excitement as the Rematch draws nearer. Enjoy, everyone!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch – Chapter 1**

All in all, the Eden Hall school year had been comparatively uneventful after the JV Mighty Ducks defeated the Varsity Warriors in a surprising upset. Charlie and his crush Linda were now officially dating, and Connie and Guy were also back together to "give it another try." I wished them the best, as there were times that we could all see how they truly made each other happy.

My own relationship with Gunnar Stahl was still going strong. Upon my return from Iceland nearly six months ago, he and I had been in contact almost religiously; and since the formal hockey season was over (at least for me), our communication had become one of the most consistent aspects of my life. He was still playing hockey outside of school, with Wolf Stansson as his coach, yet somehow he always made time for me in his crazy schedule. I tried not to think about how much sleep he was probably missing.

But I had really needed the encouragement of his letters and phone conversations once I got back to school, and things immediately got very awkward. As Connie had warned me, the Duck boys were now well aware of what had been going on between Gunnar and me. Charlie had at least tried to be positive about the revelation, but it wasn't long before a guilty conscience drove him into silence, as a way of showing support instead to one of his older friends.

Adam Banks really did take the news hard, I'm afraid. For weeks, he wouldn't look me in the eye, and he'd scarcely say more than two words to me at a time. Things were somewhat better between us now, but I think he was still hurting from the harsh realization that he and I would never be more than just friends. He had a gift for making me feel like I'd just kicked a puppy whenever I was in his presence.

When he returned to Eden Hall, Portman's first words spoken directly to me after the JV/Varsity showdown were, "Seriously, Jules? What the hell?" I didn't have to be a mind reader to know precisely what he meant, and even now, he and I weren't on the best of terms. At least Banks was _trying_ to accept that my affections lay elsewhere; Portman, however, would probably never be satisfied with that answer. Especially not when he knew that I had rejected him in favor of an Icelander, of all people.

Even Scooter's behavior toward me had changed rather drastically since the start of the New Year. I had never really noticed the special attentions he'd paid me, until they were suddenly withdrawn. He was still as pleasant as ever if we happened to cross paths, and he'd even made it a point to welcome me back and ask if I'd had a nice trip over the Christmas holiday; but he no longer went out of his way for me like he used to do.

Unfortunately, the story didn't get much better when it came to the other Ducks who didn't feel as though I had personally slighted them in some way. Only Connie remained truly excited on my behalf, but I know it can be difficult for her to maintain that enthusiasm when the rest of her old friends are less than thrilled.

Some consider me a downright traitor, as I'd feared would be the case from the very beginning. I'm sure there are others who hold a more or less neutral position on the matter, but they keep quiet about it for fear of being ostracized from the flock along with me. And because they're afraid to speak up (or simply don't have reason enough to do so), all I hear about Gunnar Stahl from my teammates is negative material drudged up from the past. I tried to fight back in the beginning, and I even had Connie and Charlie's help for a while; but there's just no winning against some of these hard-headed young men. Hard-headed and hard-hearted.

It resulted in a lot of lonely times for me this past semester, and international phone calls quickly became the highlight of my existence. No wonder I spent so many nights locked away in my dorm room, writing a new letter to Gunnar or looking through the pictures from my time with him in Iceland. In some ways, the memories were better company than the people who were supposed to be my friends. I had even taken to reading Nordic sagas for pleasure in what little spare time I had; the school librarian probably thought I was crazy. Or just unhealthily obsessed.

So you can imagine my shock, and my joy, when Coach Bombay made his announcement about the upcoming Rematch. I attempted to contact Gunnar every day after that and finally succeeded on my third call. He had just found out about the Rematch as well and was already dealing with dramas similar to my own, so we spent the remainder of that conversation empathizing and sharing our excitement at having another opportunity to see each other.

Apparently, Wolf Stansson still didn't know anything about his star player's interest in me; or at least, he _hadn't _known anything about it before Bombay told him. Gunnar didn't say much more about it then, but I sincerely hoped Stansson wouldn't make his life too miserable on account of me. After all, I had witnessed firsthand that the Dentist had no qualms whatsoever about being rough with even his best players.

And speaking of Stansson's best players, three of them had a reunion of sorts not long ago. Gunnar and his best friend Olaf Sanderson had spent the better part of their spring break in Hamburg, Germany, with Gunnar's older brother, Mikael. Gunnar had related some tales of their trip to me, but now I was already eager to hear more of the details from him in person.

Gunnar's birthday would fall in the month between now and the Rematch, as well. He was only a year and a half older than me, but to say that he was on the verge of turning seventeen just _sounded_ so much older than my own fifteen and a half years. I would have to be sure to call him again when the actual day arrived.

Over the coming weeks, I wanted desperately to escape the tensions around campus – maybe go shopping for a new outfit or two that I could wear while Gunnar was here. But between hockey practices and preparations for exams, it sadly wasn't possible. I would be _so _happy to finally put freshman year behind me!

Final exams ultimately came and went, and I was thrilled to learn that my lowest score had been a B plus on my Geometry final. Thankfully, that wouldn't be enough to break the straight A's I'd be bringing home on my report card. I was just walking away from the board where our test results had been posted, when I suddenly heard my name being called out from behind.

"Hey, Gaffney!"

I turned around. "Hi, Scooter." I couldn't resist greeting him with a smile. He just reminded me too much of Gunnar, and it was always nice to see a genuinely friendly face.

"How'd you do on your exams?" he asked me.

"Some of them were tough, but I actually did pretty well. How about you?"

The Varsity goalie rolled his eyes. "I managed. Let's just say I'll be happy if I never see another Chemistry equation again. So tell me…are you looking forward to the big Rematch against Iceland?"

By the playful glint in his eye, I could tell he already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it for myself. Suddenly, I felt like I was talking to one of my big brothers.

"Yes, I am – and for a number of reasons, thank you very much. I've never really played against those guys except for the one all-important shot last year, so this should be fun."

"Well, I have no doubt that you, at least, will be able to handle them. Some of us Varsity players are planning to stop by once both teams get settled here." He nudged me with his elbow. "You'll have to introduce me to my supposed long-lost twin."

"I would be happy to! I definitely want to see you and him stand side by side, just to prove to myself that I'm not crazy. Are you sure you don't have any Scandinavian blood in your family?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. Just let me know if you need any help getting ready for those Vikings, okay?"

"Thanks, I will." I watched him go, suddenly reflective. It was probably treasonous for me to even be thinking this…but I do believe I could have been very happy with Scooter Vanderbilt if things had gone differently in Los Angeles. If Banks hadn't sent me out on a late-night quest for medical tape.

* * *

><p>When the school year officially concluded, we had to say goodbye to all of our non-Duck acquaintances. Charlie was rather devastated as he bid farewell to Linda, even though she promised to attend the Rematch in two weeks' time. Our team captain then had the temerity to mope over his girlfriend's absence for the next couple of days, sending embittered glances toward Guy and Connie whenever they were seen to be sharing a romantic moment together. If I was more of a vindictive person, I would have told him he didn't know the first thing about being separated from one's significant other.<p>

Gordon Bombay returned to the academy as scheduled, and one of the first things he did was ask to see me – in private. So I stayed behind in the locker room after practice that afternoon, waiting only a minute or two before he sat down on the bench beside me.

"Congratulations on winning the starting goalie position," he began the conversation. "I think the Ducks truly are a better team for it, and you guys proved that in your showdown against the Varsity."

"Thank you, it's nice of you to say so." Hearing his praise was great, but we both knew why he really wanted to talk to me.

My old coach then leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Now, Julie, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I need you to tell me honestly: is playing against Gunnar Stahl going to be an issue for you in this Rematch?"

"No, not at all!" I answered truthfully. "I mean, I admit that I'm more excited about seeing him than I am about the game itself; but his being there isn't going to negatively affect my playing. If anything, it'll make me more determined to play better than ever, and I know he feels the same way. We've talked about it, and all in good sport, we agree we both have a lot to prove after what happened last year. He's certainly not going to back off just because his girlfriend happens to be in goal, I can guarantee that."

"Did you two play against each other at all while you were in Iceland?"

"We didn't, and that was probably our only real regret from the trip. I skated with him and watched him play with some of his friends, but that's it. No real goal-tending for me while I was there, so you don't have to worry about there being any unfair advantages on either side."

"All right, I believe you. But will you please promise to let me and Orion know if ever it does start to become a problem for you?"

It was fair enough for him to request that reassurance, so I nodded. "I will, Coach, I promise. And, so you know, I'm not completely naïve about this whole situation, either. I understand that there will be dramas and questions around every shot that either he makes or I save."

That comment seemed to spark some kind of memory for him. "Julie, when exactly did this whole thing start between you and him back in L.A.?"

Well, one could technically argue that it all started when Gunnar and I were locked in that freezing storage room together…but I had no desire to tell Bombay about that incredibly awkward night!

I answered instead, "We didn't really hit it off until after the Championship, when we spent the entire day together. So in other words, no, it wasn't a factor whatsoever during the shootout."

"I thought not, but it's still good to hear you say so yourself." He smiled at me but sobered up again rather quickly. "I have talked to Wolf about the situation, too. He's been telling Gunnar that there shouldn't be any problems as long as you and he can keep business and pleasure separate; I believe 'distinctly and severely separate' were his exact words."

That sure sounded like Stansson. "I think we can manage that. Honestly, I'm more worried about how some of the guys on our team will react seeing us together."

The point was perfectly valid, in my opinion. I realized it was one thing for my teammates to _know _that I was dating our rival team's star captain; it would be quite another thing for them to actually _see _the proof of it right in front of them. It made me wonder if they would have been this vehemently opposed to my going out with Scooter, in another universe.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Coach acknowledged with a nod of his own. But then he looked at me strangely, as though he was just seeing now seeing me for the first time. "You really do like this guy, huh?"

Finally realized that, did he? Aloud, I responded, "Yeah, Coach. I really do. I mean, I know he's an aggressive hockey player, and everyone here probably thinks he and his teammates are just a bunch of jerks…which, yeah, some of them can be at times. But even Olaf Sanderson is capable of an occasional redeeming moment."

He raised his eyebrows. "You saw Sanderson up there, too?"

"Yeah, sure. He's Gunnar's best friend, after all, so they're kind of a package deal. But nothing dreadful happened; it was all good, for the most part."

Bombay chuckled suddenly. "I'm sorry; I just have this vivid memory of how you knocked both those guys flat on their backs the first time you interacted with them. I haven't been able to get that image out of my head for the past month, so it's hard for me to believe you were actually in Iceland hanging out with the two of them. I told Don Tibbles you and Stahl were dating, and I think he almost had a stroke."

Tibbles? Oh please, no. "He's not going to come make a big media circus out of us, is he? I don't think I could deal with that on top of everything else."

"No, don't worry, he won't be here until the night of the Rematch. I'll be handling everything on behalf of the Goodwill Committee this time around."

The words, "Oh, good," escaped me before I could wince apologetically.

My old coach let it slide, rather choosing to ask, "Julie, are Gunnar's friends actually okay with the two of you seeing each other? I don't want there to be too much trouble with them, either; at least, no more trouble than is already bound to happen."

"I would say that they're okay-ish. That is, at least they're not openly fighting it anymore." My voice turned a bit grim. "Gunnar must have a stronger influence over his friends than I do over mine."

"Even Sanderson?"

"Olaf tried to fight our relationship at first, but I kind of put an end to that when I went up there for Christmas. Now we agree to more or less tolerate each other."

I don't think Bombay knew what to say to that, so he just nodded again. It was odd to see a former lawyer like him looking so perplexed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Team Iceland finally arrives in the second half of this chapter, so I won't keep you long here. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch – Chapter 2**

Even though I didn't have a chance to go shopping like I'd wanted to, I still made Connie sit down and go through my entire wardrobe with me. It was a light-hearted, girly activity that benefited both our spirits while we sat in this brief lull between school ending and the beginning of more intense Rematch preparations.

After having been in Iceland during the middle of winter, I was excited to break out some summer-appropriate attire for my next visit with Gunnar. Not that there would be any occasion to seriously dress up, but I wasn't about to go around looking like a sweaty tomboy the whole time he was here. Only my brothers and my closest friends got to see that side of me.

"I really need some new shorts," I lamented petulantly to my roommate. I still had a couple of pairs that fit me decently, but I had outgrown all of the others since last year. Connie was experiencing the same thing. Even though we were both in excellent shape, there was evidently no stopping Mother Nature when it came to filling out a young woman's figure.

"At least you still have a few skirts that fit and look cute on you. I don't even have that luxury to fall back on." Connie huffed out a sigh. "My mom's going to take me shopping once I get back home, which would have been just fine if they hadn't announced this whole Rematch thing."

I brainstormed out loud, "Would she kill you if you cut off a pair of jeans to make some shorts?"

"Probably. Although, now you mention it, that's not a bad idea. I have one pair of jeans that are wearing through in the knees, so I was going to sew on a couple of cute patches later. Maybe I could just cut them off instead and at least make some capris."

While she started rummaging around for some scissors, I tore through my tiny dorm closet to find matching shoes and a tank-top that would go with my favorite flowing white skirt.

* * *

><p>Practices continued like clockwork, fast and furious now that we didn't have school competing for our time and attention. And after a few days, we also started gathering at team meetings to watch the film from last year's Championship and discuss strategy. Coach Bombay would attend those meetings whenever he was available, adding valuable insight out of his experience from the previous year.<p>

"You guys have improved tremendously on defense since last summer, and we're going to need that more than ever," he addressed us one afternoon. "If last year is still anything to go by, these guys are all talented, but they're the most dangerous in tandem. A lot of their plays seem specifically designed to utilize that strength, as well. So when two of them are attacking the net at the same time, we need to do everything we can to disrupt at least one of them so that the other will be forced to take the shot on his own. That's the sort of thing Julie the Cat can handle, no problem; but even she'll run into trouble if she has to constantly guess where the puck is coming from."

"Right," Goldberg concurred. "Like, let's not let all five of them have a breakaway opportunity at once like they did back in the Championship. I tell you, that was _not _cool!"

"That's why we've got you on defense now, Goldie," Charlie spoke up, clapping his friend on the back.

"Hey, Cat," Guy addressed me from his place beside Connie, "did you get to do any spying while you were in Iceland? You know, like maybe you saw something up there that could help us out now?"

I had figured that question would come up eventually, and I answered in deliberately bland generalities. "I think it's safe to say they'll be even better than they were last year, individually and as a team; and they'll be just as physical as they were before, only now they're all bigger and stronger. But other than that, sorry, I've got nothing specific. I'm afraid scoping out the competition wasn't exactly the reason I went there."

Portman snorted, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "Yeah, we'd all rather not think about the real reason."

Before I could open my mouth to retaliate, Coach Orion intervened to prevent things from getting rapidly out of hand, drawing our attention back to the film study. It didn't help cool my temper at all, though.

_Portman._ I would be willing to live in peace about this whole situation if he would, like Sanderson and I had agreed to do; but Dean just wouldn't let some things go. Many times since his return to Eden Hall, he had made it sound as though kissing an Icelander was the most appalling, abhorrent thing a person could possibly do; kissing _him_, however, would be sure to give my life a whole new level of meaning. It was a good thing we were done on the ice for today; otherwise my focus would have been miserably off track!

So instead, I tried to compose myself by watching for even the briefest appearance of Gunnar on screen as the tape rolled on, which I believe is what caused the butterflies to officially hatch inside my stomach. I would be seeing him again in person very, very soon.

"Don't worry," Orion was telling my teammates. "The Vikings may be bigger and stronger than before, but you guys have all grown since last year, too. If anything, maybe you've caught up to some of them now, so things will be a little more even."

"Not all of us," Ken mumbled, and Averman nodded in fervent agreement.

Connie likewise bemoaned, "For some of the guys, that might be true. I'm still going to get tossed around like a rag doll out there! Dwayne, you'd better keep that rope handy again, okay?"

She shot him a sweet smile, and our resident cowboy beamed at her in return. "Don't you worry, little filly, I've always got yer back!"

Bombay rolled his eyes. "Hopefully, there won't be any need to lasso people this time around. Who knows, maybe Sanderson's toned down a bit? Isn't that what you were telling me, Julie?"

"Umm, not exactly." Gosh, is Coach's memory really that poor? "All I said was that he didn't try to get in between Gunnar and me while I was in Reykjavik – which is more than I can say about _some _people in this room." I leveled Portman with a vicious glare. "But I really wouldn't expect Olaf to be any less aggressive on the ice than he was a year ago."

"Olaf?" Fulton echoed, incredulous. "You're seriously on a first-name basis with that jerk?"

I sighed, suddenly weary of this conversation. "I spent a lot of time with him up there, okay? It's not what I had planned on, but it happened. The first-name basis was inevitable."

"Come on, guys, let's focus here," Coach Orion interjected sternly. "Now all of you just need to keep it together. At this rate, Iceland will have us beat before they even step off that plane."

* * *

><p>I hate to say it, but Orion's words did carry with them a certain sense of foreboding. My play in practice was fairly abysmal over the next couple of days, and it only seemed to be getting worse. The closer we got to the day of Team Iceland's arrival at Eden Hall, the more difficult it became for me to focus. Orion skated up to me after what had clearly been one of my less-than-stellar performances; he did not look pleased.<p>

"Gaffney, do I need to put Goldberg back in goalie pads? I thought you'd be able to handle this."

"No, no, I'm sorry." I took off my helmet and set it on top of the net behind me. "I know it looks bad right now, but I'll be better once I see him. I promise! It's just tough right now, not really knowing what's going on. Knowing he's going to be here so soon, but not knowing exactly when or where I'll first be seeing him. My nerves feel kind of frayed at the moment."

He sighed, though I could tell he was trying to be patient with me. "Look, Julie, today is Friday. They get here on Monday, and then the game is the following Saturday night. Monday night, there will be a meeting with both teams in the auditorium; I'm sure you'll be able to see him then. Can you please resign yourself to waiting at least that long, so you can focus on what the team needs you to do right now?"

"Yeah, I think so," I replied with a nod. "I'll do my very best. Sorry, Coach."

My level of play over the weekend still wasn't spectacular, but at least it wasn't bad enough that Coach felt a need to call me out again. That was a relief. I barely made it through Monday's afternoon practice, however. Gunnar Stahl and his teammates were probably here, right now, getting settled. My gorgeous boyfriend whom I hadn't seen in six months was likely a ten minute walk away from me, and I was stuck between the pipes! I think that was the only time in my life I've ever regretted being in goal.

When Team Iceland and Team USA congregated together in the school auditorium that evening, the tension was palpable. The two teams naturally sat on opposite sides of the room, exchanging no words but plenty of cold, challenging, distrusting glances. Coach Stansson was there, standing like a war general in command of his troops, but I saw no sign of the Icelandic trainer from last year. Evidently she had not made the trip this time. I took a seat in between Connie and Russ, and my roving eyes very quickly located Gunnar, who was seated a couple of rows ahead of us.

Coach Bombay then got up on stage and started rambling away with the usual jargon about why we were all there, how the Goodwill Committee was happy to welcome us back, etc. I really couldn't be sure, because I honestly wasn't paying any attention. How could I pay attention to him when I could see Gunnar just across the aisle? I couldn't take my eyes off him all the way through Bombay's speech. It was a veritable struggle to control my breathing and my heart rate, as nerves and excitement made it all but impossible for me to sit still. Connie subtly reached over and grabbed a hold of my wrist to steady me.

Strangely enough, though, Gunnar appeared to be putting forth a concentrated effort to look anywhere except in my general direction. He either kept his eyes straight ahead or would occasionally lean over to exchange whispers with Sanderson, who sat beside him. Why wouldn't he look at me? Or at least look around _for _me? He had told me himself multiple times how excited he was to come and see me. What was wrong with him now? Or with me?

At one point, I did make eye contact with Gustav Uberjavik, whom I had met during my week in Reykjavik. He acknowledged me with a short nod and a wry little smile; I responded in kind. There was another Icelander who would be sure to challenge the Ducks' revitalized defense during the Rematch.

After one more speech delivered by a representative of the school, we were finally released from our sedentary captivity, and I at once forsook my teammates in an attempt to reach Gunnar. But Olaf intercepted me first, blocking my path and my view completely.

"There's the Cat." He was smiling down at me, the expression friendly enough, yet with just enough mischief mixed in to make me a little uneasy.

"Hi, Olaf," I acknowledged as shortly as possible. "Good to see you."

When I moved to sidestep around him, he deliberately impeded my progress once again. My patience all but gone, I glared up at him and was about to demand that he move his giant Scandinavian self out of the way. I could hardly have expected it, then, when he suddenly bent down without a word of warning and kissed me on the cheek.

And once again, I found myself frozen in place and utterly speechless. I totally had _not _seen that coming! It was even more of a shock than when Gunnar had first kissed me a year ago. Where in all the crazy cosmos had _that _come from? Was the world coming to a cataclysmic end or something?

"Don't get all excited; that was just to make your Duck friends angry," he told me at last, winking devilishly.

I rolled my eyes and released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Well, congratulations, I'm sure you succeeded." Indeed, there was no doubt I would be hearing about this from my teammates later on…but at least the universe made sense again.

Still disoriented in the wake of such a bizarre distraction, I looked around again, only to find that Gunnar had vanished. In that moment, it felt as though all the air had been crushed right out of me.

I braced myself when Sanderson leaned in toward me again, but this time he whispered harmlessly into my ear, "Gunnar is waiting for you in the hallway outside. Not many people should be leaving that way." He indicated the proper direction with his head, and I'm sure I had never graced him with a more sincere smile in reply.

"Thanks, Olaf." Since his face was still so close to mine, I gave him an impulsive little peck on the cheek myself. I sensed his entire body stiffen immediately in response; yet as pleased as I was to have surprised him in turn, there was no time to stick around and gloat over it. However, I did indulge in a quick laugh at his expense as I hurried away.

I pushed my way through a few more Icelanders who did little more than give me a passing glance before I finally stepped out into the quiet hallway. And there stood Gunnar, all alone like Olaf had said. As soon as Gunnar saw me, he smiled – and I knew that there was absolutely nothing wrong after all.

Suddenly grateful for the solitude that allowed me to forget all about being stealthy or subtle, I ran up to him and practically jumped into his arms, laughing when he picked me up and spun me around once. Upon returning me to my feet, he took my face in both hands, and we were finally able to kiss. For our first reunion at the airport in Iceland, I would say that Gunnar and I held one another after our initial greeting kiss. This time, we clung to each other as though we were both afraid of what would happen when we finally let go. I concentrated on the feel of his steady heartbeat against my own chest.

"I'm sorry I ignored you in there," he apologized after a moment. "Coach will be watching me closely all week, and I didn't want to get into trouble with him before I had even seen you."

I stopped his words with a kiss of my own before whispering into his ear, "It's all right, as long as I can have you to myself part of the time. Gunnar, I've missed you _so _much, you have no idea!"

"I would not be so sure about that," he corrected me gently while tightening his hold.

"I take it Stansson has been giving you a hard time about us, then?"

There was the briefest of hesitations before he answered me. "Not yet, so much; but I think he and Olaf will both kill me if I lose my focus here."

"Yeah, and I'm sure he'll do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen. Well then, we'll just have to keep business and pleasure very, very separate like he's been saying. Six months is a long time to go without seeing you, and I don't want to waste any 'pleasure' time with you while you're here."

He sighed and rested his chin on top of my head. "When we first heard about this Rematch, I was excited that my team would have another chance to play yours and  
>prove that we could win. But I was even happier to know that you would be here waiting for me."<p>

A warmth blossomed inside my chest that had nothing to do with the shared body heat between us. "I felt the same way; but for me, I'm excited to finally have a chance to play against you for an entire game."

Gunnar chuckled, and I felt the vibrations pass from him into me. "I look forward to that, as well."

He then tilted my face up to kiss me again, and when we were finished, I squinted up at him. "You know, I think you've grown taller since I last saw you."

"A little, probably. But I'm still shorter than Olaf…and Mikael."

That widened my smile even more. "And how is your dear brother?"

"Very well, when I last saw him. He will be coming back to Reykjavik for the Olympic tryouts later this year; I hope he does well."

"I hope so, too." If Mikael did make it to Atlanta next summer, I was determined to find some way of following the results of Olympic handball, even if the rest of America couldn't care less about the sport. "Do you think he'll make another surprise visit this time?"

"I would not expect it. Besides us, what else is there for him to see in Minnesota?"

"Well, there's the Mall of America, but somehow I don't think that would be enough to entice him across the ocean. Now come on," I urged, taking him by the hand, "let's go find someplace quiet to sit down. I want to hear all about your time with him in Hamburg."

And by the sheepish way he smiled back at me, I knew there would be plenty for him to tell.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Happy days, we're all reunited again; now the real fun can begin. A thousand thank-you's to the reviewers from the previous chapter! It's so very encouraging to hear that others are also enjoying this series. Now here's the next chapter for your entertainment!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch: Chapter 3**

"Someplace quiet" was more difficult to find than I'd anticipated, especially since I had no desire to drag Gunnar into an empty classroom. I'd spent enough time there for one year, thank you very much! And knowing that he wouldn't care to be cooped up indoors during this beautiful summer weather, I bypassed the school library and led him instead to the stable on campus.

The place was quite deserted, now that all of the students in the equestrian program had trailered their horses home to prepare for the summer show season. But with doors wide open on either end of the aisle, there was a lovely cross-breeze blowing through the building, and we found a couple of clean hay bales that were perfectly suitable for sitting on.

The privacy this location offered was the best aspect of all, naturally. The stable and riding arenas were set a considerable distance away from the other buildings on school grounds, so there was no reason whatsoever that someone might accidentally stumble across us there. We passed the rest of the evening in that place, happily undisturbed by a single soul.

When I had gone home to Bangor back over spring break, I had occasionally found myself wishing that I could be in Hamburg with my Icelandic friends instead. As we talked, however, I soon realized that it was just as well I hadn't been there. It had very much been a guys' week, and I could only shake my head at some of Gunnar's stories, practically embarrassed on his behalf.

At length, I inquired, "Do you guys always get into this much trouble when the three of you are together?"

"It is…not unusual," he confessed. "But Mikael and Olaf are always the ones to come up with these crazy ideas."

"And I'm sure you're just there trying to be the voice of reason, right?" I teased him. "You don't enjoy going along with their harebrained schemes in the least?"

"Well, it is fun sometimes; it's just never anything I would think of myself."

"I see. So if you and Olaf got into trouble on your own, say when you were younger, would Mikael help you out? I'll bet he's had to pull you two out of a few scrapes over the years."

"Once in a while, yes. He would not help us if he thought we were in a fair fight – or if he knew we had started it. But he would never let things go too badly for us if we lost; I suppose he does care that much, at least."

I reached over and squeezed his knee. "I am glad you had a good time with him. Was that your first trip to Germany?"

Gunnar shook his head. "I have been to Berlin several times before to visit my father's relatives, but it was my first time seeing Mikael in Hamburg. It is a big, busy city with plenty to keep him occupied; I could see that he is happy there, at least for now."

"And I'm happy to hear it. But the most important question is did you get to play hockey with him while you were there?"

That coaxed another broad smile from him. "We did! It was a little strange at first, playing with just the three of us. When we were younger, Mikael could play against both me and Olaf because he was so much bigger and faster than us."

"Not so much anymore, huh?"

"No, but he can still play better than I expected. He is good at making me feel like I'm twelve years old again. We ended up playing against a few other guys who were there on the ice at the same time; and even though there were five of them and only three of us, we still beat them."

He was pretty darn proud of that accomplishment, I could tell; both proud and relieved that certain family ties hadn't lost too much of their old strength over the years. But speaking of family ties…

"Oh, I just remembered, there's something else I need to tell you; and the only reason I didn't tell you sooner is because I didn't find out for myself until just recently." I paused to take a deep breath. "Gunnar, my parents are coming for the Rematch. Partly to see the game, but I think mostly because they want to meet you."

Gunnar just stared at me for a moment. I could tell my revelation had caught him off guard, yet he seemed to take it in stride well enough. "I suppose that's fair; after all, my parents have already met you. It will be good for me to meet them."

Such a brave young man he was. I imagined he would be nervous enough when the time actually came, but for now, all was well.

We stayed there in the barn together until the summer twilight inevitably fell, and the mosquitos became too bothersome for either of us to tolerate.

* * *

><p>When I returned to my dorm after finally peeling myself away from Gunnar's side, Connie was still awake waiting for me; I couldn't tell if her expression was one of greater pleasure or concern.<p>

"Okay," she began slowly, "I can see you're totally happy, and I understand why. But are you sure you're ready for this, Jules? You know the guys are gonna come down on you really hard over the next few days, especially if you start getting all friendly with Sanderson, too. And what was that all about with him back there, anyway? I'm sorry, but even I couldn't defend _that_."

And here we go. "That was just his way of giving me a hard time, Con, because he knew you all would freak out over it. It's really no big deal."

"You returned the favor," she accused me stiffly.

I shrugged. "He had just told me where Gunnar was; after that, I must not have been thinking clearly."

"Well, good luck explaining that to the guys."

"Does it even matter? They probably won't listen to me, anyway; they've never listened before."

"I'm serious, Julie," she entreated, her voice and her face equally earnest. "Spend as much time with Gunnar as you can, and I hope you enjoy every second of it. But for your own sake, stay away from Sanderson. Remember, every single one of your teammates has good reason to hate him."

I fell asleep that night not nearly as content as I should have been, considering Gunnar's close proximity. Connie's final words refused to let my mind rest in peace. I couldn't be sure, but now that Olaf Sanderson was a variable in this whole equation, it almost sounded as though even her support for me would only be extended so far.

* * *

><p>We were all pretty much stuck on campus during the week leading up to the game, though we had virtually free run of the school and all its facilities. It was indeed strange that the Rematch was being held here at Eden Hall, because for us Ducks, it almost felt as though life was just moving along like normal. Except that now, instead of seeing our regular classmates or rival Varsity players, we were crossing paths with Icelanders.<p>

And while Eden Hall certainly was a large school, it was just small enough that you would habitually bump into the people you were trying to avoid. It had been true earlier in the year with the Varsity players, and it was true again now. Ironically, the Icelanders were staying in the same dorms that normally housed the Varsity hockey team during the school year. For Gunnar's sake, I sincerely hoped there were no Brazilian fire ants still creeping about in those rooms!

Of course, he and I ate together at mealtimes whenever our two schedules would permit it. Guy, Connie, and Charlie joined us once, but generally, a small crowd of Gunnar's teammates would reach our table first. My own friends kept their distance after that. I don't know if I can truly say that the Vikings were more tolerant of me than the Ducks were of Gunnar; more than anything, they just kind of ignored me in the beginning, although over time they slowly started acknowledging me a bit more. Probably once they realized that they weren't going to scare me away.

I felt kind of bad for hardly recognizing any of their faces, and I certainly didn't have the names to match. I did my best, seeing that the majority did formally introduce themselves to me at least once. But it was difficult to keep track of who was who when they kept speaking to each other in Icelandic, so that even when first names were used, they were lost to my ears in a jumble of other unintelligible words. However, I wasn't about to let that modicum of discomfort pull me away from Gunnar's side as long as he was here. The Vikings might not have been making any great effort to include me, but at least they weren't shunning me outright.

Now if only I could pretend that I didn't feel the stares of a whole flock of Ducks boring into my back. Even Connie raised one eyebrow at me conspicuously when she saw me seated amidst a whole sea of blonde Scandinavian heads. I tried to ignore her and the others by daring to step into the conversation at my own Iceland-dominated table.

"So, guys," I ventured one night, "how does summer here in Minnesota compare to summer in Los Angeles?"

I didn't have to wait long for someone to answer me. "It is much better here, I think. Still warmer than in Iceland, but not so hot that you want to kill yourself."

"Well, that's good, I suppose!" It took a moment of mental groping, but I did successfully identify the speaker as Amssalik, one of Team Iceland's fastest skaters.

"Did your team bring any beach balls to practice with this year?" That was Olaf, stirring up trouble again, as usual.

I chuckled, slightly nervous due to the memories that reference awoke. "No, Coach Orion doesn't really go for that kind of thing. But I'll bet we could dig up a volleyball somewhere around here, or maybe a couple footballs."

At that last comment, Gustav eyed me shrewdly. "A real football? Or one of _your_ footballs?"

He had me completely confused for a moment, until it dawned on me that he meant one of my "American footballs" as opposed to a soccer ball.

I replied, "Either one, probably. Which would you rather find?"

He and a few of the other Icelanders answered that question for themselves later in the evening. With me leading the way after dinner, we ransacked the athletic department's storage room, and who would have thought that our strange lemon-shaped "footballs" would be the most popular discovery?

We all had a few laughs as I tried to teach them how to properly throw one, with the spiral and everything. Olaf and the Viking goalie both had huge hands which gave them advantage over their teammates, but even that was of little help as I soon proved to be a poor teacher. Since my brothers had taught me everything I knew about football, I almost found myself wishing that they were here to help chime in on my instructions. That insane desire was short-lived, however, as I knew their presence would only open up a whole new can of worms.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Coach," Charlie asked Orion after our team practice the following morning, "are these practices supposed to be open to the public?"<p>

"Not to the general public, no," our coach responded with some reservation.

"Then how come there've been a handful of people up in the stands the last couple of days?" added Luis.

Orion cleared his throat. "I'm technically not supposed to tell you guys this, but I figured it was only a matter of time before somebody caught on. Scouts from colleges or various levels of professional teams are being permitted to attend the practices for both teams this week."

"What?!" Poor Banks was already in his infamous panic mode. "They've been here all this time? I can't believe nobody told us!"

Connie tried to console our most talented Duck with her usual words of encouragement, and I would have expected Charlie to do the same. But on the contrary, Conway himself seemed particularly troubled to learn of the scouts' presence at Eden Hall; probably because playing hockey as an actual career felt like a much closer reality for him now than it had a year ago.

Then I myself was forced to wonder…did Gunnar know they were here? And how many of them were here specifically to observe him? Hopefully Gunnar wouldn't fret over it too much, if he did know. At least playing for scouts likely wasn't any more stressful than playing under the intense scrutiny of Wolf Stansson every day.

While the rest of my teammates were processing this latest news, Portman approached me. "Hey, Jules."

I turned to face him, bracing myself for whatever poisonous words he was surely about to unleash against me.

I never would have expected him to ask, "Have you met Stahl's brother yet?"

"No," came my automatic response. "I want to, but he didn't come back to Reykjavik for…hey, wait a minute. Portman, how did you even know that Gunnar has a brother?" I was quite certain I'd never mentioned Mikael around our lead Bash Brother, who now looked almost thoughtful.

"I bumped into the guy, literally, back in L.A. last year."

I was dumfounded. "You've seriously met Mikael Stahl? You, of all people?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I even thought he was cool at first, until I found out who he really was. After that, I kinda wanted to hit him."

"Why am I not surprised?" Oh, that was just not fair! Why should Portman get to meet Mikael by happy accident, and not me? "Still, I'm glad you didn't start a fight with him. Umm…you didn't, right?" With Portman, one could never be too sure, but he waved away my concerns.

"Nah, it was cool. But you don't have to worry about trying to defend him, Sweetheart. I got the impression he could take care of himself just fine."

No doubt. In light of what was to come, I only hoped the same could be said of Gunnar.

**Author's End Note: **Preview for the next chapter...Gunnar meets Scooter! How awkward will that be?


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Originally I had planned for a lot more to happen in this chapter, but it was just getting a little too long for my liking. So instead, we'll keep this one focused mostly on Scooter, and all the other Duck drama I had planned will just have to wait until the next update. Enjoy, everyone!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch – Chapter 4**

"How's it going, Gaffney?"

"Scooter!"

I had just come from an exceptionally good practice and was now headed to spend some time with Gunnar before his own team took the ice. As a result, I was in such a giddy mood that I just couldn't stop myself from giving the Varsity goalie a friendly hug when he caught me by surprise in one of the school's many hallways. I quickly wished I hadn't done so when I saw who was with him.

"What? No hug for me?" Rick Riley smirked when I just narrowed my eyes at him in reply. "Apparently, being reunited with her icy boyfriend has got the Cat in a good mood, huh, Scooter?"

Rather than baiting me like he had intended, Riley's words only reminded me of the unique opportunity at hand.

"That's right, Scooter, you need to meet Gunnar! Come with me, I was just on my way to see him. Riley, you can tag along too, I suppose."

I wouldn't have expected Rick to be present for this long-awaited introduction, but oh well. There's wasn't much I could do about it now. But seriously, was there some kind of unspoken rule that all of the decent, respectable guys I knew were required to have an irritating sidekick for a best friend? At least Cole wasn't there as well.

I led the two Varsity players back toward their old dorm rooms, fully expecting that we would run into Gunnar along the way. We did, and as soon as I saw him, I waved for him to hurry over.

"Brace yourself," I whispered when he leaned down briefly to kiss me; I then turned back to our visitors. "Okay, guys, here we go. Gunnar, this is Riley and Scooter. Riley is the captain of the Varsity hockey team here at school, and Scooter is their starting goalie. Scooter, Riley – this is Gunnar."

For a long moment, it was freakishly silent; until Scooter, baffled and amazed, finally blinked and shook his head as though rousing himself from a trance. "Oh, wow. I mean, Julie told me she was dating my look-alike, but now that I see it for myself…man, this is just too weird!"

"Weird" was an understatement; but besides that, it was like no one else knew what to say. Of course, Riley had to come up with some kind of smart remark.

"Well, Scooter, if you ever wanted to know what you'd look like as a blonde, this is it. And, Stahl, if you've ever wondered about cutting your hair shorter, here's what you'd look like. I say we get some kind of DNA test done to make sure they're not twins."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Gunnar broke in, though he was still staring openly at Scooter. "Are we even the same age? I think you must be older than me, and I just turned seventeen last month."

"I'll be eighteen in August, so yeah, I'm older," came Scooter's answer.

"I don't know," Riley mused mischievously, "that's less than a year apart. You could still be long-lost twins separated at birth, and then one of you was adopted."

Gunnar actually laughed at that, effectively dispelling any remaining tension. "If I was adopted, or if I had a twin, I'm sure my real brother would have said something about it by now. He is not the best at keeping secrets."

The Varsity captain seemed content to move on to another subject after that, so he nodded toward me instead. "You know you Icelanders have got your work cut out for you in this Rematch, right? I mean, your little girlfriend here held us scoreless in the JV/Varsity showdown, and we had been averaging four points a game before then."

Gunnar's proud blue eyes gazed down at me. "In that case, she is too modest. I knew her team had beaten yours, but I didn't know it was considered such an upset."

"Yeah, it was pretty impressive," Scooter conceded, sounding entirely honest in his praise. "At least we'll have another shot against the Ducks next year."

"Right, but in the meantime, there are other opportunities at hand." I can't explain it, but there was something in Riley's voice just then that made me eye him suspiciously. He went on, "I'd like to make a sort of proposition, if you will. A friendly little game of hockey, on the side from what your teams are already doing this week. I'm thinking me, Scooter, and Cole against the two of you, plus your big enforcer, Sanderson. Just for fun, you know, to see how the boys from Iceland match up. What do you say?"

An eager acceptance to that challenge was already on my lips when I caught myself just in time and looked up at Gunnar. "Do you need to talk to Olaf first?"

"No." He shook his head, smiling with a fierce, competitive joy I'd never really seen from him before. "I can answer for both of us, and we agree."

"Good!" Riley clapped his hands together once. "Now, when's the best time for us to have the ice to ourselves without getting caught? After all, I suppose your coaches technically wouldn't appreciate you guys doing something like this – risk of injury and all that."

He was certainly right about that. "First thing tomorrow morning would probably be the safest bet," I volunteered. "That is, if you three bums can drag yourselves out of bed that early?"

"Normally, during the summer, I'd say no way; but for you guys, we'll make a special exception."

With those details determined, the four of us were now forced to go our separate ways, largely because Gunnar was due at practice in just a few minutes. Personally, I couldn't wait for the following dawn! The most difficult thing was not telling any of my fellow Ducks about the pending contest before then.

* * *

><p>At the rink the next morning, I couldn't help but be reminded of the first time the Ducks had confronted the Warriors on this very ice – and of how badly that whole experiment had ended. But a great many things had changed since then, and today, I was the only Duck participating. Olaf, as eager and raring to go as I'd ever seen him, wanted to take some practice shots against me during our warm-ups; with Gunnar's support, however, I put an end to that rather quickly. After all, it only seemed fair to everyone that we save our best efforts against each other for the Rematch.<p>

"Scooter is really good," I warned the two Icelanders as they circled around my net. "You guys will probably need to work together to score. Just please try not to get hurt, Gunnar, or else Stansson will have all our heads. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but that goes for you too, Olaf! Cole's kind of a blundering beast, so don't let him run you over."

Predictably, Sanderson only laughed at the prospect. "How did your Bash Brothers do against him?"

I pondered that for a second. "Fulton by himself really struggled, but Portman didn't have any trouble with him."

"Then I'm sure I'll be fine, too," he assured me with a blatant wink.

But it made me shudder all of a sudden to think about how things might physically play out in the Rematch a few days later. Now that I'd had a chance to compare both of them up close, I did have to admit with apprehension that Portman was bigger than Gunnar and could probably take him one-on-one. Sanderson presented a much more favorable matchup against our senior Bash Brother, but I'm sure Gunnar wouldn't want to admit that he needed anyone's help in a fight, even if it was help from his oldest friend.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any fights at all, and so far there hadn't been – at least, nothing off the ice. But once the game commenced, would Portman's aggression be more likely to target Olaf on account of old grudges, or Gunnar on account of new ones? It wasn't something I particularly cared to think about, and especially not now when my focus needed to be solely on the task at hand.

Riley won the opening faceoff against Gunnar by sheer muscle alone, and after a few minutes of observing Cole vs. Olaf, I knew Dean would certainly have his hands full during the Rematch. Perhaps even more so than he would have bargained for. Frankly, I should have seen this coming when Riley first suggested the idea of a "friendly" three-on-three. Cole and Olaf were pretty much content to simply knock each other around, while Riley and Gunnar battled more over the actual puck. I'm sure there were at least a few illegal hits exchanged on both sides, yet no one breathed a word of complaint. When either of the forwards got close to the opposing net, the corresponding enforcer would try to extricate himself long enough to help take a shot or two.

But early on, Scooter and I both held strong, refusing to let a single goal past us. With only two other players per team, there simply weren't enough bodies to dedicate anyone to defense, so we goalies definitely had to earn our keep. Olaf's power shooting didn't seem to be any more effective against the Varsity goaltender than Riley's repetitive deking was against me, and the only way clumsy Cole was going to score against me was if he bodily shoved me out of the way first. I do believe he even thought about it, but thankfully, Sanderson had my back and wasn't about to give his blonde counterpart the chance.

Sadly, my success didn't last when Riley took a shot glove-side that ricocheted off the goal post with a sharp twang. I dove forward onto the ice in an attempt to cover up the puck before it got away from me, but I wasn't fast enough. Then I could only watch in the next second as Riley put himself in perfect position for the rebound and sent another shot sailing cleanly into the net over my head. I hate it when that happens!

Gunnar and Olaf appeared to double their efforts after that, though I was bound and determined not to let us fall behind by more than a single goal. At long last, Sanderson was able to effectively shake Cole and charge down the middle to attack the net with his friend. It took some pretty fancy passing back and forth between the two Vikings to confuse Scooter, but Gunnar finally managed to slip the puck under Scooter's glove for a goal. Vanderbilt narrowly missed the save by a hair. Now, if there was one unfortunate thing about playing goalie, it's that you could never really celebrate a point with your teammates because they were obviously down at the other side of the rink. I still cheered for them anyway.

In the end, our two undermanned teams never moved past that one-to-one tie; and, yes, it made me sick to my stomach to stop play without a clear winner. But we had to call it quits because one of our coaches was bound to come by the rink sometime soon, and it truly wouldn't go well for any of us if we were discovered. Everyone shook hands before skating off, except for Cole and Olaf who merely acknowledged each other's performance with a gruff nod. Yet as I watched Gunnar and Scooter, shaking hands and smiling identical smiles, that image was forever branded into my memory as one of life's extra special little moments.

"How are you boys feeling?" I inquired once the Icelanders and I were back in our locker room. "Some of those hits looked pretty brutal."

While I was more concerned about Gunnar's wellbeing, I looked at Sanderson as I spoke, anticipating that he was far more likely of the two to have gotten banged up a little.

"He was a good enforcer," he admitted of Cole. "I'll probably be sore tomorrow, but there's nothing wrong with that. It will help get me ready for you Ducks on Saturday night."

"Scooter was an excellent goalie, too, like you said." Gunnar paused here until I looked over and caught his eye. "But I don't know that he is better than you."

"Aww, thank you." I eagerly soaked up his praise, but then couldn't resist teasing, "Too bad that's going to work against you during the Rematch."

Olaf got himself cleaned up and changed with astonishing speed, soon leaving Gunnar and me alone. I'm not sure if that was intentional on his part, but the gesture didn't go unappreciated. I stood behind Gunnar while he sat tying his shoes and impulsively started combing my fingers through his damp hair. He turned just enough to look up at me, smiling fondly.

"What?"

I almost giggled at him. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the first time I kissed you, and your hair was wet like this."

"Really? I seem to remember that I was the one kissing you."

"It was perfectly mutual by the end, you may recall."

I took both his hands when he stood to face me and then maneuvered him backward until he bumped into the lockers behind him. I leaned my whole body against his, my hands now on his neck where I could feel his pulse beating under my fingertips. When his hands went behind my shoulders and pressed me even closer, I stretched up tall to kiss him, reversing the roles from our first kiss a year ago. How much had changed since then! But there wasn't a single thing that I would do differently.

"Hmm." I freed my lips from his just long enough to playfully comment, "I think I like being on your team for a change."


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **All right, so here's the extra stuff that was originally going to be included in the previous chapter. I must say, I'm glad I broke it up. Enjoy the upcoming dramas!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch – Chapter 5**

I typically wasn't used to a thorough workout so early in the day. Luckily, my performance at practice later on wasn't adversely affected by our secret showdown against Riley and Company. As he often did, Coach Orion left us players to our own devices in the locker room once the day's exercises were concluded.

When most of us had changed into casual clothes, Goldberg abruptly called over to me, "Hey, Cat, will you be seeing your boyfriend tonight?"

"Yeah, I will, but probably not until later." Gunnar had told me that he would be having some sort of meeting with Stansson that evening and couldn't be sure exactly how long it might last. I just hoped they weren't talking about me.

"Good, because we kinda wanted to talk to you about that. About him." Guy had spoken, and only now did I realize that the whole team was more or less congregating around me.

I paused with my hand still reaching inside my locker, and it suddenly felt like a huge block of ice had just been dropped into the pit of my stomach. Already dreading the response, I dared to ask, "What about him?"

Germaine answered, "We're afraid you might be spending too much time with him – with all of them."

"And why shouldn't I be spending time with him?" I retorted hotly, my temper rising to the occasion. "He's my boyfriend, and I haven't seen him in six months!"

"But it compromises you. You let Sanderson kiss you, for crying out loud, and you didn't even try to kill him afterward!" Fulton exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's like a conflict of interest or something," Luis argued. "Being around those guys all the time is getting into your head, and it isn't good for you or the team."

I called him out on that last comment. "How is it bad for the team? Will someone please tell me that? My play has been great since he got here – improved even! And you guys should know by now that I'm not going to let my feelings for him interfere during the game."

Charlie stepped up. "Jules, never mind the Rematch right now. The point is we're all your friends here, and we're worried about you."

I was almost speechless – almost. "Oh no, I can't believe you guys are doing this – especially not now while Gunnar's here. My God, you're all acting like this is some kind of an intervention and you're trying to save me from myself!"

"Bingo! That's about right," Averman had the nerve to chime in.

"Julie, please, just hear us out," Charlie continued gravely before I could maim Averman. "How long do you really believe this thing with Gunnar is going to last? I mean, yeah, you guys made it through one year, and that's great…but at what cost? All of us here have seen what a strain it puts on you."

My obvious anger was now warring with an even greater soul-crushing realization. Captain Conway and Friends honestly did believe they were doing me a favor right now. Maybe that explained why Connie still hadn't broken her uncharacteristic silence; and while Banks and Portman weren't yet contributing to the discussion either (probably because everyone knew of their bias), there could be no doubt they approved wholeheartedly of this confrontation.

"We just want what's best for you in the long run," added Russ, "and we really do think it's a bad idea for you to keep stretching this out."

Everyone except Connie nodded in agreement to that.

Dwayne emphasized, "Yeah, little lady, we don't none of us wanna see you get hurt. And the longer you wait to…"

When our Cowboy trailed off, looking abashed, Guy picked up the slack. "What he means is that it's only a matter of time before this whole thing ends badly for you. Honestly, Cat, how can it not when Gunnar lives over two thousand miles away? And the longer you let it go, the more it'll hurt you when things finally do end."

Was this really happening? Was I actually hearing this from my own teammates? I opened my mouth to respond, but all words stuck in my dry, tight throat.

"In fact," Charlie cautiously resumed, "you could almost say that the smartest thing would be to break up with him now, while he's here. Don't you at least owe him that courtesy, if you really do care about him? Admit it, Gaffney, you don't know if you'll ever see him again after this week, and it'll only be tougher on both of you to call things off from a distance later on. You know no one wants to go through a breakup over the phone."

By then, I couldn't listen to any more. Between the intensity of my own seething emotions and the very air that seemed to be closing in around me, it felt like I could hardly breathe. With tears stinging in my eyes, I wordlessly pushed past the lot of them, refusing to meet the eyes that followed my every move, and stormed out of the locker room. No one followed after me.

How dare they put me on the spot like that! Did they really think that I wasn't aware of how Gunnar would be leaving again in just a few short days? That fact already kept me awake at night and haunted every moment I shared with him. The absolute last thing I needed was them throwing it back in my face!

The tears were flowing freely now, as my feet moved blindly forward. Feeling indescribably distraught, I had to get away by myself for a while, yet I couldn't simply escape to my dorm room. I would be too easy to find there. With Gunnar himself currently unavailable, perhaps I could find sanctuary in the stable once again? That sounded like a good plan.

But when I opened the door to step outside, I walked through without really paying attention to where I was going and bumped into a very solid body. Startled, I looked up into the unmistakable blue eyes of Olaf Sanderson. He blinked at me in surprise for a couple of seconds before finally registering my tear-stained face.

"Are you okay?" The young man in front of me both looked and sounded incredibly uncomfortable, like he didn't know what else to say; but the concern I heard in his voice might have been genuine, which was a strangely touching sentiment.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he tried again. "Gunnar will kill me if I did."

Had I been in a better mood, I might have laughed at him. As it was, I could barely manage a dignified sniffle. "No, no, I'm fine; it's nothing. I guess I just don't know my own friends as well as I thought I did. Or maybe they don't know me."

I really should have stopped there, but now that my rant had started, I just couldn't hold it back. "I mean, Olaf, I know you don't like that Gunnar and I are seeing each other, but at least you can accept it – because you're his friend, and you're happy that he's happy. And you didn't stop being his friend just because he did something you didn't personally agree with. How come _my_ friends can't understand that?"

Sanderson didn't ask any questions as he listened to my woes, but I knew he could piece together what had happened easily enough. He's actually a lot more intelligent than most people would expect. For an awkward moment after that, the only sound to disturb the silence between us was me trying to quiet my stubborn tears.

But then I was startled once again when Olaf wordlessly took hold of my elbow and started pulling me along – not roughly, but firmly enough to make it clear that he wasn't giving me a choice of whether or not to follow him. I went along willing all the same because…heck, at this point, why not? He led me back to the dorm building on campus where he and his teammates were staying, leading me to wonder if Gunnar had perhaps finished with Stansson early. But that was not the case.

While Stahl was still missing from their group, roughly half a dozen other Vikings had pulled up chairs around one of the beds and were using it as an impromptu card table. Multiple sets of blue eyes looked up at our entrance, and the way some of them narrowed suspiciously caused me to shrink back a little behind my escort's towering frame. These Icelanders might be used to seeing me around at mealtimes, but no doubt they felt this was pushing it a little. In the wake of their evident surprise, Olaf spoke a few firm words in his native tongue that apparently served to dismiss his colleagues' concerns, and their friendly game continued.

Now that it no longer seemed as though the entire country of Iceland was watching me, I leaned in closer to Sanderson and whispered, "I probably don't want to know this, but what did you say to them?"

"I just told them that your team is lame, so you're going to hang out with us for a while."

I couldn't find any immediate words to respond to that, no more than I could ignore the odd flutter of gratitude I felt at Olaf's taking me under his wing in Gunnar's absence. I took a seat next to Sanderson who began explaining the rules and objects of the card game to me in English, even while the rest of his countrymen continued speaking in Icelandic. Although he lacked the exact word in English for concepts like "tricks" and "trump suits," I was able to get the hang of things quickly enough.

Now that my tears had dried up and I was seated beside him, I finally got a good glimpse of the angry welt on Sanderson's left forearm – red, inflamed, and already showing a deep bruise. The swelling extended all the way down into his fingers, probably bad enough that he wouldn't be able to close his hand into a tight fist. I couldn't stop the sharp spike of concern that rose of up in my throat.

"Oh my gosh, Olaf, what happened to you?"

He followed my overt gaze down at his arm. "Oh, that was a present from your big friend this morning."

"From Cole?" Suddenly I felt terrible. "Ugh, I should have known something like this would happen if we played them! I'm so sorry."

"For what? It's hockey, there's no reason for you to apologize. Besides, it's…just a love tap."

My companion smiled ruefully, and from the way he spoke, I gathered that there was supposed to be an extra level of meaning to those words; however, they brought no memories to mind for me personally.

"Still, it looks pretty bad. Even if you can't let your coach find out, don't you think you should at least ice it now? Hold on, I'll help you!"

Guilt was no small motivator as I dashed back and forth around the room, calling upon Olaf's teammates to help me locate an ice pack and a bandage. To my surprise, he then sat straight-faced and silent while I dressed his injury. Even if it was just a superficial flesh wound, I couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible, and I truly didn't want it to compromise his play in the Rematch.

Gunnar returned later than any of us would have guessed. He was likewise surprised to find me there amongst his teammates, albeit pleasantly so. By then, I'd had enough time to put that whole episode with the Ducks behind me (at least temporarily), and I was able to welcome him with the smile he deserved. Although, there was still some part of me that wanted to just run up to him and start shamelessly bawling like a baby.

Instead, I resisted the impulse and asked, "What did Stansson want to talk to you about for so long?"

He leaned in close to kiss my cheek but whispered in my ear at the same time, "I'll tell you later."

We remained with the group long enough to finish our card game; since I now understood the rules well enough to play but still had no concept of the strategies involved, I lost miserably. When that was done, I followed Gunnar and Olaf back to their room, where the door was shut behind us to allow for some privacy.

"So what's going on?" I persisted, taking a seat next to Gunnar on his bed. Sanderson sat down across from us.

"Please don't tell anyone else about this yet," Gunnar began confidentially, "but Coach told me that last summer and now again this year he's had scouts asking him what my hockey plans are for the future. There have been representatives from a couple of minor league teams here in America and even one NHL team from Canada."

Truthfully, I don't think Olaf was any more surprised by that revelation than I was. Of course, Gunnar's talent was bound to attract a good deal of interest from pro teams of all levels, as predictably as bees are drawn to honey. However, there were one or two implications in that simple statement which didn't sit well with either of us.

"Why would they ask him and not talk to you directly?" Olaf wondered.

"And you mean Stansson didn't tell you about the scouts from last year until just now?" I added indignantly.

Gunnar nodded yes both times before responding to my own protest. "He probably didn't know if they would still be interested in me after the way things ended last year."

It was really, really hard not to roll my eyes at that comment; instead, I turned to Sanderson. "Olaf, you're around him way more than I am. You don't let him still beat himself up over what happened last year, do you?"

The taller Icelander only shrugged. "I try not to, but he makes it difficult sometimes."

"I'm sure he does. But Gunnar…do you even want to play hockey professionally?" It was a monumental question, one on the mind of every person who knew Gunnar Stahl.

"I really can't see myself doing anything else," he admitted. "But professional sports is a big world, whether in Europe or America. It is exciting to talk about, but I still have a full year of school to finish first. I just thought I would have more time to think things over before all of this started happening."

He sounded a little overwhelmed, so I reached out and reassuringly grabbed his hand. At times like this, Gunnar still looked very young. "It's all right, no one's expecting you to make any decisions right now – or, at least, they'd better not be."

Just then, there came a timid knock on the door. Olaf rose to answer it, and there in front of him stood Connie Moreau. He didn't budge an inch when her familiar brown eyes flashed fire at him. Instead, Sanderson leaned against the doorframe with arms folded across his chest, staring down at Connie because _down_ was the only way he could look at her. While Olaf had obviously grown since last year, Connie was still very much her same petite self; especially now, without skates, the drastic size difference between them had never been more apparent.

His steady gaze was both appraising and challenging – almost as though he was daring her to try something right at that moment. Although, much to my surprise, he didn't taunt her or say anything at all; in a way, the silence made him even more imposing. If my friend was intimidated by him, however, she did an excellent job of concealing it. She did her best to simply ignore him, but I'm sure the whole encounter still grated on Connie's feisty, independent spirit.

She finally looked past Olaf into the room, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Julie, come on, let's go. I've been looking everywhere for you."

I didn't want to leave; in fact, I would have been perfectly happy staying right where I was for the next three days, until it was time for Gunnar to fly home. But when I saw the underlying distress on Connie's face, I knew I couldn't refuse her. So I kissed Gunnar goodnight, nodded my subtle thanks to Olaf once again for his help that evening, and followed my roommate out into the night.

"Jules, are you all right?" she asked when we arrived back at our room.

"Of course, I'm not. What else do you expect? All of my supposed friends just turned against me at the worst possible time." I really shouldn't have been taking my anger out on her; she wouldn't have been able to prevent tonight's little "intervention" once the rest of the team had decided to go through with it.

Connie sighed; even she sounded tired now. "Listen, I know our boys might have been a bit strong with you earlier, but…"

"But what? Con, if that really is how they feel about me and Gunnar, there's nothing I can do to change it."

"But they truly do mean well. They probably didn't realize before how serious things were between you and Gunnar, and now that they can see the two of you together, they're just worried."

"I know…but that doesn't make it any easier to hear what they had to say."

The next day's morning practice was our last before the Rematch. My head was definitely in the game, my play as sharp as ever. By all hockey standards, I was feeling great; but I didn't find the same enjoyment in it that I normally would have, especially being this close to a big game.

**Author's End Note: **Poor Julie the Cat. Next up...Gunnar takes an unexpected nap, Julie cries some more, and we finally get to the long-awaited Rematch. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for your enthusiastic responses to the last chapter! Now that we're all good and frustrated with the Ducks, let's see how they do in the big Rematch. Enjoy!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch: Chapter 6**

Since both teams had practiced earlier in the day, we all thankfully had our Friday night free to either prepare for the next day's Rematch or simply relax. Gunnar and I had opted for the latter, deciding that a quiet evening would be the best use of our limited time together. However, when I reached the stable as planned at the designated time, Stahl wasn't there. I waited on him a good twenty minutes, and still he didn't show.

I won't say I was necessarily worried; but knowing how completely out of character it was for him to just blow me off without the slightest forewarning, I decided it was time for a little investigation. My search began at his dorm room, an obvious place. Sanderson answered when I knocked on the door.

"Hey, Olaf." I noticed with relief that while his left arm still looked like an ugly, mottled mess, at least the swelling had gone down dramatically since yesterday. "Sorry to bug you again. I was just looking for Gunnar and thought he might be here."

The tall Icelander stole a quick glance back behind him. "Yah, he is, but he's sleeping. He…had a longer practice than the rest of us today."

Mortified, I immediately deduced, "Did Stansson keep him for another 'special practice session'? And on the day before the Rematch, no less? I mean, seriously, hasn't your coach ever heard of a little thing called recovery time?"

My gosh, that man was infuriating! All of my previous questions had been rhetorical, of course, so Olaf didn't bother offering a response. Driven by my concern, I abruptly pushed past him into the room, where I came face-to-face with the unshielded aftermath of one of Stansson's little "sessions." Even in his sleep, Gunnar appeared pained and utterly exhausted.

"I was going to let him sleep, but I can wake him up now if you want?"

Olaf sounded a little too eager to do that, so out of sympathy for my favorite Icelander, I said, "That's okay, no need to bother him; he needs the rest, anyhow. I should probably be going then…"

"No, you can stay. If we're talking, maybe it will wake him up gently." Unlike Sanderson himself would have been, I'm sure. I sat on the edge of Gunnar's bed as gingerly as I could, careful not to disturb him, and started absently running my fingers through his hair while he slept. A rather maternal gesture, I admit, but I felt the circumstances surely justified it.

Suddenly thinking of Elina, I wondered aloud, "How does his mother stand seeing this year after year?"

My companion shrugged. "I really don't know; and handball can be just as punishing as hockey, so it's not like Mikael makes things any easier for her. She has taken both of them to the emergency room a few times."

I had been afraid it might turn awkward being practically alone with Sanderson; but knowing how he enjoys the sound of his own voice, I needn't have worried. At this rate, I truly would end up spending as much time with him as I did with Gunnar. Connie's words of warning from earlier in the week came back to me then, and thinking of my friend prompted me to speak with sudden boldness.

"Olaf…okay, so we all know hockey is a violent sport, and there's never any way of telling what might happen in a given game. But when we play in the Rematch tomorrow, will you please promise me that you won't deliberately hurt anyone?"

"No." In a split second, his blue eyes had turned icy cold, forcing me to remember why my teammates were all so vehemently opposed to this young man. His voice was likewise unyielding as he continued, "Ask Gunnar for a promise like that if it will make you feel better, but don't expect it from me. Like you said, no one knows what might happen out there on the ice."

I managed a nod in light of that harsh response but said nothing more. I probably shouldn't have expected anything different from Olaf. Thankfully, he now appeared willing to leave the subject behind us.

"Mikael and I talked about you when we were all in Germany."

"Really?" I met his eyes again, appreciative of the new topic. "That's surprising. Do I even want to know what was said between the two of you?"

"Well, of course, I had to give him hell about that stunt he pulled over Christmas. And then I told him that it really won't make it any difference to me if Gunnar ever decides to dump you."

I blinked. "Wow, Olaf, such a way with words. Tell me, is there supposed to be a point to this charming little anecdote?"

"You didn't let me finish," he protested, making it sound as though I had been the one to insult him, rather than the other way around. "I don't care if Gunnar breaks up with you someday – _but_ if he ever starts cheating on you, Mikael and I will both be happy to beat him up for you."

And there I went again, smiling for Sanderson in spite of myself. "You know, that's…strangely touching. But as flattering as it may be, I hope you won't ever have to make good on the offer."

"I doubt it. Of the three of us, Gunnar is the only one who could pull off a long-distance relationship like this; he's the only one with the patience for it. Me, I just don't care enough to keep in touch the way you two have been; it's too much work. And Mikael," here Olaf shook his head, "he isn't physically or emotionally capable of something like this. I don't think he's ever had a relationship last for longer than a few months, even if the girl only lives five minutes away."

"Yeah, Gunnar told me his brother has kind of a restless spirit." Which apparently applied to Mikael's love life as well as to his physical location.

The Viking enforcer snorted at my comment. "That's putting it mildly. If Mikael ever does settle down and get married, I will shake that woman's hand – after I recover from my heart attack."

I laughed a little at that, hoping it wouldn't wake Gunnar. "Can you see Mikael being a father eventually?"

Olaf made a face. "I don't think so, no. But he will make a really cool uncle one day."

His gaze now drifted down to his friend, while I was left feeling uncommonly flustered by all the implications of those last words. Gunnar finally stirred then, looking to Sanderson first before registering my unexpected presence.

"Good morning," I greeted him. "Or good evening, rather."

Gunnar rubbed the sleep from his eyes, squinting over at the clock. "Olaf was supposed to wake me up so I could meet you on time."

The Viking in question ignored the accusing glare from his teammate as I replied, "Well, personally, I'm glad he let you sleep instead. Oh, Gunnar, why do you let Stansson keep doing this to you?"

The tears sprang up out of nowhere; I can't explain it. I suppose I was still upset about the Ducks' behavior last night and even more distressed by the thought of Gunnar's imminent departure…but watching my boyfriend suffer like this must have been the tipping point. I rose and started pacing back and forth, struggling to hold back the tears, but all my efforts only seemed to make them worse.

Good grief, I was hardly ever this emotional; I'd probably cried more in the past two days than I had in the last six months! Gunnar got up to intercept my pacing and take me in his arms, grimacing when his undoubtedly sore muscles protested against the movement. Sanderson, meanwhile, gave his friend a look that clearly said "good luck" and made himself scarce. I couldn't blame him; after all, he'd already dealt with enough of my tears for one week.

Gunnar rubbed one hand up and down my back. "It's all right; this really isn't so bad."

"No?" I tilted my head up to look at him. "Gunnar, you once told me that your brother would only interfere in a fight if he thought it was unfair. Well, you playing against Stansson is not fair! Do you really mean to say that Mikael would just stand by and watch that happen if he was here?"

"Yes, he would, because this isn't a fight; it's different." My crazy Icelandic boyfriend really didn't see anything wrong with this whole tradition, did he? "Besides, Mikael has done the same thing himself many times before. I think he was even the one who inspired Coach to start doing this with some of his players. He always was a little too confident, so it was good for him."

"And is it good for you?"

He nodded gravely. "Playing with Coach reminds me how far I still have to go; he challenges me more than anyone my own age ever could. At least I can keep up with him much better now than I could a year ago."

"But is it really worth the progress when he hurts you like this? I mean, just look at yourself right now." Feeling him tense in pain when I squeezed his shoulders a little too hard, I guiltily relaxed my hold.

"I am not hurt, Julie, I promise – just tired." Here Gunnar sighed wearily, as if to prove his point. "He knows how to cause pain without actually hurting you too badly."

If those words had been meant to placate me, all they managed to do was give my tears a renewed intensity. I sobbed straight into Gunnar's shirt then, grabbing onto fistfuls of it like toddler. There was just too much turmoil inside of me right now, and I couldn't let him go.

"Gunnar, please, please don't leave me again. I can't stand saying goodbye when I have no idea when or even if I'll be seeing you again. And each time I do see you, it just gets more and more difficult to say goodbye."

It was true. When we were apart, things weren't so bad; I could be strong and handle the separation. What I couldn't handle was being with him and then having to say goodbye _again_ after so short a time without knowing when I might see him again. Emotionally, it was taking a toll, and perhaps my teammates hadn't been too far from the truth last night. It was almost like an addiction of sorts; the more I was permitted to be around Gunnar, the more intense my "withdrawal" symptoms became after he was gone.

I miserably rubbed my forehead against his chest, whispering in all earnestness, "I wish I was going back to Reykjavik with you on Monday."

He still held me after the abrupt change of subject, but didn't say anything – probably because he didn't know what to say. And I don't know what I would have expected him to say, anyway. It wasn't as though he could do anything right now to change our unfortunate geographical circumstances. But if ever Gunnar was waiting for an opportunity to break up with me and say "it's all for the best", -now was undoubtedly the time.

He said no such thing. Even though I'm sure he felt the same as I did, he made no suggestion whatsoever that we end things now just to spare each other the inevitable pain of parting. Other guys might have done so, especially in books or movies. But not him, thankfully! Truth be told, I had never felt more secure in his affection for me than in that moment, despite his ongoing silence.

Feeling myself calm down again, I sniffled and tried with no great success to smooth down the soggy fabric of his shirt, which I'd gotten damp with my tears. "I'm sorry; I should let you get back to bed."

"It's all right…"

"No, no. I don't want to beat you tomorrow if you're not playing at your very best." Now I managed a teary smile up at him. As much as I hated to leave the sheltering warmth of his arms, letting him rest was simply the right thing to do now; and given my overly-emotional state, a good night's sleep would only benefit me as well.

But before turning in early, Gunnar and I indulged in a little guilty pleasure together first – one of my personal favorites that involved a jar of peanut butter, a box of Oreo cookies, and a couple of plastic knives. It wasn't ice cream, but it was close enough.

* * *

><p>At long last, Saturday night arrived. I wasn't exactly nervous about the Rematch itself; after all, I knew I could handle the pressures of the game. What I <em>was <em>nervous about was the aftermath. Not only would Gunnar be meeting my parents afterward, but we would both have to answer for the final outcome in one way or another. If the Ducks lost, the blame would fall back on me; and if the Vikings lost, Gunnar alone would bear the responsibility. It isn't fair, I know, but that's how the game works when you're romantically involved with the best player on the opposing team.

When the Mighty Ducks took the ice, I was amazed at how jam-packed the stands were. I thought Coach Bombay had said this Rematch was supposed to be a quieter, more private affair? There were still screaming people everywhere! At a glance, I spied a large group of Varsity hockey players, along with Bombay and Don Tibbles; but I saw no sign of my parents. Then it was time to tune out the crowds altogether and focus solely on the ice in front of me as both teams warmed up. While I wasn't actively paying attention to him, I still found it comforting just to know that Gunnar was out there with me and that whatever happened in tonight's matchup would have no impact on our feelings for one another.

Averman had the unenviable honor of taking the opening face-off for our team. Team Iceland sent Captain Stahl forward in answer, and he wrested the puck from Averman with predictable ease. The game was on!

Right from the start, it was tough for me not to worry about some of the hits Gunnar was taking; but I kept reassuring myself that if he could survive Stansson, he could handle Portman and Fulton. Although most of our Duck guys were indeed taller now than they had been last summer, none of them could really match the Icelanders for weight and muscle except the Bash Brothers, who gladly made the most of every opportunity to knock a couple of Vikings off their feet. Both Connie and Ken likewise seemed to spend more time sprawled out on the ice rather than on their skates, courtesy of Sanderson and others, but so far I hadn't seen either of them get flattened against the glass.

We didn't bother wasting time on any of the standard Duck tricks, seeing that they had apparently lost their effectiveness against more mature teams like the Warriors or the Vikings; besides, Coach Orion was determined that if we were to win tonight, we would do so by means of sound hockey fundamentals. Personally, I think he wanted to see the truly better team win, even if it was Iceland. Coach was always looking ahead, so as far as he was concerned, this Rematch would serve as a measuring stick to gauge the Ducks' readiness for the coming school year. If he found our performance lacking, no doubt he would devise some way of making us all practice rigorously over the summer.

Midway through the first period, I'm happy to say we Ducks were blessed with a rare show of justice from the universe. After having sacrificed his roster spot for Adam back in last year's championship, Charlie Conway scored the first goal of the Rematch. He followed after Luis who was racing down toward net, only to fake a shot and pass the puck behind him a short ways to Charlie, much like Charlie had done to Goldberg at the end of the JV/Varsity showdown. Again, the ploy worked like a charm, and the Viking goalie dove forward to take the bait, leaving Charlie to shoot into a wide open net.

Meanwhile, down on my end of the rink, I'd already racked up some pretty spectacular saves against multiple Vikings who had tried to attack our net individually. So far, none of them had even come close! Even Gunnar had taken a handful of shots at me in a solo effort, but all to no avail. Unfortunately for me, however, his persistence did pay off in a less conventional way.

Anytime Gunnar came near my net, I couldn't take my attention off of him – not because I was so enamored but because I had to respect his talent. Even the briefest glance away from him might give him sufficient opportunity to score. I blocked yet another one of his shots with my stick, but the puck rebounded straight to Uberjavik, who sent it back on the same side of the net but much higher. Without enough time for me to react and adjust, his shot hit the back of the net, and we were all square with one goal apiece. I could never be sure, but for all I knew, perhaps Gustav and Gunnar had preconceived that entire exchange.

The Rematch continued into the second period with both teams battling hard. Stahl and Portman had been hounding each other relentlessly since the first drop of the puck, resulting in several skirmishes that often grew to include their teammates. The refs diligently broke things up each time, although so far they hadn't seen fit to call any penalties. That was, not until Dean reached out to blatantly trip Gunnar as the latter was bringing the puck across the Ducks' blue line. Naturally, our top enforcer still grumbled about the referees' "poor judgment" as he was led away to the penalty box.

Gunnar immediately went to work on the ensuing power play, using his newfound liberty to muscle past a couple of Duck defenders and then circle behind the net. No problem. Anticipating a wrap-around shot, I slid over to close off one side of the net as he emerged. But rather than attempting a shot himself like I'd expected, Gunnar passed the puck off to Amssalik, who had knocked down Goldberg and was now granted a much too easy shot stick-side. The result was another goal for Team Iceland. Those Vikings certainly were ganging up on my weaker side at every opportunity!

With his team now down by one, Orion called a timeout and challenged us to score one more goal in the waning moments of the second period. He put Russ in the game, but predictably, the Vikings constantly had him double-teamed at the very least. And so the burden fell to others. Dwayne utilized some of his fancier moves to advance the puck into Iceland territory, and then Banks scored on a quick corner shot after accepting a sweet pass from our showboating Cowboy. Fearing some sort of violent reaction, I kept an apprehensive eye on Sanderson while my teammates celebrated the goal, but nothing of note transpired. Thank goodness.

That concluded the second period, and my team went into the locker room feeling pretty good about a tied game. Back on the ice a short while later to start the third, the defenses for both teams were remarkably tight; Stansson must have emphasized that point during the break just as Orion had.

Time ticked away, and the gritty style of play in this period reminded me very much of our showdown against the Varsity. The Rematch remained tied at two. With less than ninety seconds to go, Gunnar was fast approaching with the puck on my left. I couldn't see that he had any immediate help. Was he really feeling confident enough to attack my legendary glove again? I had already stopped a couple of his shots from that direction.

Stahl came up on the net, narrowly avoiding a check from Fulton; but at the last possible second, he passed the puck across center ice back toward the blue line, where Sanderson was waiting for it. I knew what was coming in the span of a single heartbeat, but again, I just didn't have time to reposition my body accordingly. Olaf has arguably the strongest slap-shot on Team Iceland, and his powerful shot sailed over my stick into the netting. _Dang it! _

In spite of a frenzy of heroic efforts in the moments that followed, there was no miracle, last-second score for the Mighty Ducks that evening. As I stood and heaved out a defeated sigh at the sound of the final buzzer, only then did I realize that, while Gunnar still hadn't scored against me, he'd been directly involved in all three of Iceland's goals. Probably not how he or Stansson would have designed things, but it still seemed rather fitting.

Before removing my helmet, I indulged in a small, secret smile as I watched the Vikings celebrate their victory on the far side of the rink. Losing was never a pleasant experience, but at least tonight I could find some personal gratification in seeing Gunnar so happy. The Ducks, on the other hand, were a subdued group that retreated off the ice and into the locker room. I honestly didn't pay much attention to them after that. Unable to truly share in my teammates' dejection, I felt fresh anxiety growing in my chest with each piece of hockey gear that I removed. It was time for Gunnar to meet my parents. In light of that milestone, the Rematch already seemed like little more than a distant memory.

The plan was for me to grab Gunnar as soon as he was ready, and then the two of us would meet my parents at a previously designated spot outside. But as soon as I stepped out of the locker room, I stopped dead in my tracks. Because standing there right in front of me were –

"Jeff? Jacob? What are you guys doing here?"

**Author's End Note: **Would you believe that the next chapter will be our last together in this story? I may run off and cry somewhere now. But first, let me reveal that familial introductions will abound in the final chapter, and we will finally hear a few words from Coach Stansson himself. See you there!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Gordon Bombay had told Wolf Stansson that they'd see each other again. Little did either of them know how soon that would come to pass. One year after MD2. Established Julie/Gunnar. Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Even on the ninth installment in this Series, I still own nothing. All belong to Disney.

**Author's Note: **Well, my friends, we have officially reached the end here. I can hardly believe it. But I can definitely say that I'm glad I decided to continue the series for this long. It's been a joy to write, and I deeply appreciate everyone who's come along to join me on the journey. Enjoy this final chapter!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Part IX**

**Rematch – Chapter 7**

Evidently, Mikael Stahl wasn't the only big brother who could make a surprise appearance.

"Good game, Sis," Jacob commented without preamble, walking around behind me to give a quick tug on my wet braid. When I whirled around to try and smack him, he simply stepped out of my range, grinning. "Of course, your team did lose, and that sucks. But you still played a good game."

Still struggling to recover my scattered wits, I stammered, "What? No, I didn't; I let three goals get by me."

He shrugged. "You can't pitch a shutout every time. With the way they were attacking, you should be proud it wasn't worse."

Yeah, at least they didn't rout us twelve to one again or anything like that. "Umm, thanks, I guess. But seriously, what's going on here? Why didn't Mom and Dad tell me you two were coming?"

Jeff, my oldest brother, finally answered, "We decided to tag along at the last minute. After all, we want to meet this mysterious Viking boyfriend of yours, too."

Good Lord, this could not be happening! The only time I'd ever had a "male caller" come for me at home was back in junior high when my date for a dance arrived to pick me up. His dad had been driving, of course, but he still came up to the door himself to get me. Both of my brothers had been home that night; and by the time we finally left for the dance, my date had been so thoroughly traumatized by my elder siblings that he barely had the courage to hold my hand, much less dance with me! Frankly, they had kind of ruined my whole evening. I had secretly been hoping to have my first kiss that night too, which obviously did not happen.

And now these two monsters wanted to get their hands on Gunnar. They were already walking away from me toward the visiting team's locker room. _Oh, no…_

"Wait!" I shouted shamelessly after them. "You have to let me at least warn him first." By now, my parents were probably waiting outside, so I couldn't rely on them for help in this situation.

"You've got five minutes, little girl, but no more. Use them wisely!"

For Jeff, five minutes was generous; but while I was grateful for it, I couldn't afford to waste one precious second. So I bolted past them as fast my legs could carry me, hating how the crowds of people slowed me down at every step. Some of them might have even been reporters trying to snag a quick interview with me, but I was oblivious. There were far more urgent matters to worry about now. I reached the entrance to the opposing team's locker room and was at once overjoyed to see Olaf Sanderson's blonde head sticking out over top of the throng.

I waved at him. "Olaf! Over here!"

When he finally realized who was calling him, he smiled and made his way over to meet me. No doubt he would want to gloat over scoring the winning goal for his team, but I couldn't afford to give him the opportunity. At least, not at this exact moment.

"Olaf, is Gunnar still in the locker room?" I panted once we were close enough.

Though confused by the question, he nodded. "Yah, he is."

"Good, then you need to get back in there and give him a message for me." Without thinking twice about it, I started shoving the much-larger Icelander back toward the locker room entrance. "You need to tell him I'm sorry, I had no idea this was happening; but there's been a change of plans, and now it's not just my parents. Both my older brothers are here, too."

There was a moment of silence from Olaf…and then he laughed, as loudly and boisterously as ever. I think he might have even been on the verge of tears, he was laughing so hard. And it would have been hilarious, except he was wasting my five minutes!

"Can I watch?"

How typical. If Gunnar was about to get chewed up and spewed out by my siblings, leave it to Olaf to find the whole spectacle thoroughly entertaining.

"Fine, I don't care, as long as you're not too obvious about it. Now will you please just get in there and tell him." I pushed him again, putting my full weight into the effort this time. "We don't have time to fool around like this, they're coming!"

At last he went in to deliver my message, still laughing every step of the way. Gunnar emerged shortly with Sanderson right behind him; the latter looked simply tickled to death. Jeff and Jacob hadn't shown up yet, thankfully, but surely they were due to appear any second now.

I rushed up to Gunnar. "Did Olaf tell you?"

Fortunately, he didn't feed off my panic. "Yes, yes, he did, and it's all right. I can handle this. Remember, I have an older brother, too."

"Yeah, but _your _brother is a big part of the reason you and I are still together; I have no idea what _my _brothers are going to be like. Wait, there they are." I instinctively put a little more distance between Gunnar and myself, though I kept a firm, possessive grip on his hand.

My brothers made their way over, and right away I wanted to groan as three of the most important men in my life very obviously sized each other up. At twenty, Jeff was a pretty big guy, serving primarily as a defender and an enforcer on his college hockey team. Jacob was seventeen, older than Gunnar by just a few months; though leaner in build, he was also a formidable presence out on the ice as a forward. Needless to say, my siblings weren't exactly the type to back down from anyone for any reason. And just to top it all off, I could indeed see Olaf in the corner of my eye, observing the whole affair from a distance with silent glee.

I took the liberty of officially introducing everyone, then held my breath.

Jeff finally broke the ice with a cool observation. "Nice playing out there, Stahl – even if you still can't get a goal past my baby sister."

"That was disappointing, yes," Gunnar conceded, glancing down at me, "but I'll still take the win."

"Yeah, we've trained her up pretty good over the years." Jacob always did like to take credit for my success as a goalie, claiming I'd gotten to be so good from playing against him. I rolled my eyes.

"But seriously," he continued, "what's it like having 'The Dentist' for a coach? I'm surprised so many of you came back to play for him a second time around."

Gunnar shrugged, searching for the right words. "In English, I believe you would say that he is 'an acquired taste'. I admit he is not often kind; but he knows the game well, and he is an effective teacher. My brother played for him before me, so I kind of knew what to expect."

"How old is your brother?" Jeff asked.

"Almost twenty-three."

"Hmm." My siblings shared a look between them. "Who knows, maybe one of these days the four us will have a chance to play a little two-on-two? Stahl vs. Gaffney. That would be a good time."

"Hey, wait, what about me?" I protested. "Don't I get to be a part of your little fantasy league?"

Jacob reached over and patted me on the head with mock condescension. "No, I think it would be better not to expose you to that kind of violence. It's a bitter blood feud, you know."

I scoffed. "Yeah, right. You just don't want me to see you guys get humiliated, because I guarantee that's what would happen."

"How would you know? You've never seen the elder Stahl play."

"No, but I've heard the stories."

Jeff ignored us, turning back to Gunnar. "How much longer are you here?"

"Only one more day." His grip on my hand tightened as he spoke. "We leave Monday morning."

My brother smiled. "Good, that gives us a little time. Jacob and I both brought our gear, and I'd love to see if you can take hits as well as you give them."

"Jeff, don't you dare!" I was about ready to hit him myself.

"Why not? He's a big boy. Besides, he needs to get a taste of what'll happen to him if he ever hurts our little sister."

Through it all, Gunnar maintained eye contact with his challenger and actually had the courage to smile. "I hope that will never happen. But if you will both be here tomorrow, I would be happy for another chance to play before going back to Iceland. I may have to bring a friend along, though." No prizes for guessing who that "friend" might be.

"Now, before you all get too carried away here," I jumped in, "whatever happened to Mom and Dad in all of this? They're still out there waiting for us, and I'm going to tell them it's your fault we're all late."

"Don't worry, they knew we were going to grab you two ahead of time. No point letting your boyfriend meet the parents if he can't get by us first, right? Lucky for you, he passes the initial test."

Well, who would've thought? I guess the bonds of hockey were powerful enough to smooth over even this awkward introduction. The boys really did seem comfortable around each other now, even amidst the threat of future violence. All in good fun, of course.

Our little group then moved outside and found my parents waiting with saintly patience. I think we finally lost Olaf at that point too but could never be completely certain. Whereas I had been more worried about my brothers, Gunnar was noticeably more nervous as I introduced him to my parents. Still, it was a smooth, pleasant sort of meeting. My father can be a difficult man to read at times, now included; but by the small, knowing smile on my mother's face, I could already tell she approved.

I admit I was grateful for both Gunnar and myself that no one brought up the increasingly awkward question of our future together, as neither of us really had a good answer at this point. No doubt it would come up in private later. But here and now, all was as well as I could have hoped it to be.

I had no idea what time it was when we all finally parted for the evening. I hugged my parents and then, as an afterthought, shouted out to my brothers as they were walking away, "Hey, while you two are here, you need to teach these guys from Iceland about American football! I couldn't do a very good job of it earlier."

Jacob called back, "That's not surprising. But don't worry, we'll be happy to spread the football love!"

I shook my head, grinning playfully up at Gunnar. "See what a bunch of weirdos I've been stuck with all my life?"

"I can relate," he chuckled, then bent down to give me a quick, innocent kiss goodnight. "Meet me back here on the ice tomorrow morning?"

"I'll be there." And I was already looking forward to it.

* * *

><p>It had been an epically long day, physically and emotionally. Even though we had lost the game, I was still walking on air because of everything that had taken place afterward. Now it was super late, and I really, really just wanted to go to bed. But as I ascended the steps to enter my dorm building, an accented voice from surprisingly close behind made me pause.<p>

"Excuse me."

Who could that be? It wasn't Gunnar or Olaf. I turned and, to my horror, saw none other than Wolf Stansson at the bottom of the steps looking up at me. I completely froze for a moment, very much surprised and wondering exactly how apprehensive I should be.

"Miss Gaffney, I'd like to speak with you for a moment." No questions asked of whether or not this was a convenient time – just a straight declaration of what he expected to happen. I wasn't sure how to actually address him, so I just nodded my acknowledgment of his "request." He sat down on bench just off to one side and waited for me to join him.

Well, this was just fantastic. I'd successfully avoided Stansson all week, but there seemed no getting out of this late-night confrontation. What did he want? Was he going to tell me to leave Gunnar alone from now on, or reiterate that there was no way in hell our relationship could survive? But then again, why would he wait until after the Rematch to address that issue? Maybe he just wanted to rub it in about his team's victory? He'd probably been dreaming about this exact moment ever since I robbed him of the gold last year.

"You played well tonight, as expected."

"Obviously not well enough," was my grim reply.

My abrasiveness only prompted a slight smile from him. "I have coached Gunnar for over two years, and I've never see him go through an entire game without scoring – until now."

"Well, I guess maybe I can still hold my head up about that, if nothing else."

"You and he are both still ridiculously young; you can't even begin to grasp all the changes that will come into your lives over the years."

I shivered suddenly in the cool night air, wishing with all my heart that this whole conversation was nothing more than a bad dream. And to think the night had been going so well.

"However, in my opinion, you have both demonstrated a maturity beyond your years in order to maintain a healthy relationship for this long. Clearly you care for each other as more than just a passing fancy."

I blinked, frowning as I listened to him. Stansson certainly had more tact in matters like this than the Ducks, I'd give him that much.

When I didn't respond, he continued, "I don't know what Gunnar might have told you in regards to his future…but I personally believe that three to five years from now, he will be here in America playing for an NHL team. He has more than enough talent and drive to succeed at that level, provided he stays healthy."

"He did tell me he was being scouted here," I confessed.

Wolf nodded. "And there will be many more offers to consider by the time he's ready to actually make a decision. It may even be beneficial for him to spend a short time in the minor leagues or European leagues first. And on that note, I think it is also worth mentioning that Gunnar may choose not to stay in America after his hockey career is finished."

That's right. A better part of me suspected Gunnar would indeed want to move back to Iceland at some point. Having spent time there with him in person, I would have to agree his heart really did seem to lie with his homeland – unlike his brother, who couldn't get away fast enough. Was Stansson bringing this up because he wanted me to remember it as I considered my future with Gunnar? Would I one day be willing to leave behind everything I'd ever known and go back there with him?

It was almost too much for my exhausted brain to process. Wolf wasn't exactly encouraging me to continue my relationship with Gunnar…but he certainly wasn't _discouraging _me, either. If anything, he was actually painting a very hazy picture of how the future might play out for Gunnar and me – which was more than practically everyone else was willing to give us.

Could this possibly be the indication of a very distant light at the end of our long relational tunnel? Gunnar was two years ahead of me in school. If he knew where he would be playing by the time I graduated, I could plan to attend a college in the same area. So much remained uncertain…but how unbelievably ironic was it that Coach Stansson, of all people, should be the one to offer tangible hope for our relationship!

I could feel him watching me intently when he resumed, "If Gunnar decides to pursue hockey professionally, which I believe he will, then I promise I will do everything in my power to help him along the way."

It was difficult not to let my thoughts of this man be dominated by his underhanded play in person against Coach Bombay a year ago or by his unnecessarily harsh treatment of his players. But he did have a vested interest in seeing Gunnar succeed as a hockey player, and I knew better than to do anything that might undermine their odd, symbiotic relationship. Wolf would both guide Gunnar and push him to be even better in the years to come; I had no place interfering with that. After all, he surely didn't want to have both Stahl brothers slip through his fingers.

Maybe I was just overtired, but I then spoke two words that I never dreamed would be uttered in the presence of Wolf Stansson. "Thank you." And I even meant it.

* * *

><p>Yesterday had been so draining, I felt as though I could sleep all day long. But seeing that today's was Team Iceland's last day in Minnesota, sleeping late simply wasn't an option. I got up as early as I could physically bear to, leaving Connie sound asleep behind me as I headed down to the rink. Despite my haste, by the time I changed into my gear and skated out onto the ice, Gunnar was already there. Not surprising, if you ask me.<p>

"Don't you ever get tired?" I teased him with an easy smile.

"Only when I'm bored, and I can never get bored with hockey – or with you."

I assumed my customary place between the pipes, all while feeling my face flush with pleasure at his words. I really was one lucky girl.

"All right then, Stahl. One year ago, I accidentally found you taking penalty shots over and over against an empty goal. Let's make things a little more challenging this time, shall we?"

Of course, even after a victory last night, he still wanted to prove that he could score against me, and a little one-on-one here would be the perfect opportunity. We soon proved to be pretty evenly matched. I had the advantage over him in the beginning, blocking about sixty percent of his attempted shots. But Gunnar is a very intelligent player, and as time progressed, he got better and better, even going against my glove. The tables eventually turned so that he was the one making sixty percent of his shots while I could only block around forty percent. It was a good thing we didn't do reps like this together before the Rematch, otherwise he definitely would have scored!

When we paused for a brief respite, Gunnar told me, "So far, I have never played against a better defender than my brother. And I've never played against a better goalie than you."

I beamed at the compliment. "Maybe we really should form our own little dream team, then? There would be you, me, and Olaf, like we had against those Varsity players a few days ago. Then we add Mikael and my two brothers, and we'll be unbeatable!"

He skated up to me, laughing, and removed his helmet. I did the same. I couldn't believe it had taken this long, but we finally shared our first kiss on the ice with both of us in full hockey gear. Though it was special in a certain light, all the pads totally just got in the way, making it difficult to get as close to each other as we would have liked.

I rested my chin on his chest, peering up at him. "So tell me…yesterday during the Rematch, was it you or Portman that instigated most of those little altercations?"

His blue eyes sparkled with a mischief that I normally saw in his best friend. "Both of us, honestly. And Olaf was right there, too; I know he was hoping to have a couple of fights break out."

I shook my head. "Good grief, what am I going to do with you boys? If I was taller, I'd knock your heads together. Maybe I can get Mikael to do it for me sometime, hmm?"

"If you do, it would not be the first time."

We stayed there at the rink for almost the entire day, each of us unwilling to stop and confront the next unavoidable parting that lay before us. Olaf and Gustav were the first to intrude on the privacy of our time together – not invited but wholly welcome. Jeff and Jacob followed not long after, giving us enough bodies to form teams and play a legitimate game. The guys all had a blast, although I still say they played more aggressively than I would have cared to witness.

Not a single Duck was present, but I truly had never felt more at home out on the ice than I did that afternoon. And the only one missing from our "dream team" was Mikael. I think I was beginning to realize more and more about how Gunnar felt regarding his big brother. Maybe someday I would get to meet him, and we could all share another moment like this with him included.

Maybe someday.

**Author's End Note: **And I really do feel that I can finally call the series complete here. My old "All Stars" story had nine chapters, and now the Sympathy Series has nine installments. Let's just imagine I planned it that way all along, in honor of Gunnar Stahl's wearing the number nine. Thank you so much for reading!


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